“All twelve?”
“All twelve.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Anything people stopped questioning because somebody important said it was fine.”
By nine o’clock, Carter Meridian’s deal room had reopened.
Not the celebratory closing room.
The real one.
Six analysts joined by video.
Two aviation engineers returned from home.
General Counsel Renee Lawson arrived still wearing the evening dress she had planned to take to dinner after closing.
Naomi had changed into black trousers and a sweater.
Grant ordered coffee.
Nobody complained about the hour.
The payment cancellation had stopped the transaction before escrow release.
Carter Meridian had lost legal fees, inspection expenses, financing costs, and months of labor.
Millions, eventually.
But the money was recoverable.
Trust was different.
At 9:47, aviation engineer Daniel Park found the first discrepancy.
“Aircraft Seven.”
Naomi looked up.
“What?”
“The utilization summary says twenty-eight hundred cycles.”
“Yes.”
“Component history for the auxiliary power unit suggests thirty-one hundred.”
Grant frowned.
“Could be swapped unit.”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s what the note says.”
“So?”
“The serial number indicates same unit.”
Silence.
Naomi leaned toward the screen.
“How big a problem?”
“Could be clerical.”
“Could it be more?”
“Yes.”
“How much more?”
Daniel hesitated.
“It could mean hours were entered incorrectly.”
“Accidentally?”
“Sure.”
Naomi waited.
Daniel understood.
“Or deliberately.”
At 10:13, another engineer found a deferred inspection entered under an unusual internal authorization code.
At 10:41, Renee located language in an old insurance filing inconsistent with the seller’s current claim that all twelve jets maintained identical inspection standards.
At 11:05, Grant found three anonymous employee reviews on an aviation-maintenance forum.
One sentence repeated in two of them.
Management cares more about dispatch than documentation.
Naomi stared at the screen.
There it was.
Not proof.
A direction.
At midnight, while the deal should have been closing, Naomi sent Conrad Whitmore one message.
Preserve maintenance communications too.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Understood.
At 7:15 the next morning, Conrad called an emergency board meeting.
Preston arrived furious.
“You gave her internal records?”
“I preserved them.”
“She’s not an investigator.”
“No.”
Conrad looked at him.
“She was our buyer.”
“Was.”
“Because of you.”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“You’re blaming seven hundred seventy million dollars on a joke?”
Conrad slid a tablet across the table.
Security footage played.
Preston watched himself laugh.
Naomi identifying herself.
The folder hitting the worktable.
Mercer shoving her.
Avery kicking the folder.
The banker running out.
Naomi canceling the transfer.
No soundtrack.
No interpretation.
Just behavior.
Preston looked away.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
Conrad stared at him.
“It proves enough.”
“What do you want me to do? Resign because I didn’t recognize somebody?”
“No.”
Conrad’s voice became colder.